A face in the van window yanks me back to reality.
In a minute, I will realize that the woman is probably the mother of the two rambunctious boys I’ve just seen. In a minute, I’ll note that her van in the next space over nearly matches Luke’s, and that she was “just checking out the newer model,” as she’ll shout to me as a means of explanation. In a minute, my pulse will edge back down to resting.
But right now, I am rigid. I am terrified of the woman’s big face, flanked by hands cupped so she can see inside the tinted windows. Right now, I am irrationally locking the doors and scooting my body away so that the stranger won’t get me.
Stranger?
Get me?
Even as I think it, I know it’s crazy.
But then something falls into place.
I see myself as a little girl. My dad is across the lot, pulling a cart from the return. I’m in the backseat. A toddler is strapped in across from me. It’s my brother, Jonas. I’m playing peekaboo with him. He’s giggling.
A woman knocks on the window on my side. She seems friendly. She has a nice smile. “I’m a friend of your mommy’s,” I hear her say through the glass. “Open the door so I can say hi,” she says sweetly. “You can see my puppy,” she says, holding open a big bag with a tiny dog inside.
I love dogs, especially tiny ones.
I unbuckle my belt. As I climb over the seat to the front, I see my dad over there with the carts. It’s fine. He’s nearby. He’ll be happy to see my mommy’s friend, too.
Like I do when I pretend to drive in the garage, I hit the locks. They all click.
Before I see the man, I hear Jonas scream. He doesn’t like strangers. I turn around to see the man taking him out of his car seat. Jonas doesn’t like it; he’s crying and kicking.
Then his cries are getting quieter because he’s going away.
“Daddy!” I scream as I watch my mommy’s friend and the man put Jonas in a van. I’m never supposed to get out in a parking lot but I do anyway. “Daddy!” I scream and scream until he hears me and runs.
Daddy listens to what happened and drives fast and chases the van, but we hit a car and that’s all I remember.
Tears are running down my cheeks when Luke rejoins me in the car.
“Take me home,” I say quietly, and he does.
41
“Are you all right?” Mom says as she rushes toward me. When she reaches the chair where I’m curled in a ball, wrapped in a woven blanket and otherwise attempting to shield myself from the world, the back of her hand instinctively flits to my forehead.
“I don’t have a fever,” I say, shaking her off. “I’m fine, I just need your help.”
She takes a step back in her business suit and heels and looks at me warily.
“Okay…” she says.
“We have to go to the police,” I say matter-of-factly, my voice slightly muffled since the blanket has crept up toward my mouth. I push it away and sit up.
“Why on earth would we—”
“I know who did it. I know who took Jonas. I remember them.”
I’m not surprised by the look of shock on my mother’s face.
“Them?”
“Yes, them. A man and a woman. I can see them. I can help the police find them.”